


Prince of Peace

by belovedbright



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Thor Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbright/pseuds/belovedbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor's first Christmas on Midgard leaves him feeling out of place until he figures out where he really should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on too much fanfic while listening to Christmas music. Suddenly Handel's Messiah was in my head, and the line "Prince of Peace" was all about Thor. Fluffy, just slightly late for Christmas fic.

“... Order our usual Chinese order. With extra dumplings. And... goose? Can they do goose? If not, duck will do,” Tony said as the suit was removed from him. “And is Pepper here? Tell Pepper we're having dinner.” On consideration, Thor thought dinner was a fine plan. Battle always left one hungry.

“Sir,” Jarvis answered, “Ms. Potts went to sleep two hours ago, once it was clear that the city was not going to be destroyed.”

“Jarvis, it's Christmas Eve! No one sleeps on Christmas Eve. It's a tradition.”

“Tony, let Pepper sleep,” Steve said with a sigh. He pulled the cowl off. “I can only imagine you as a kid on Christmas Eve. You probably had elaborate plans to catch Santa.”

Natasha flopped on the couch. “His parents probably had to sedate him.” She tilted her head, giving Tony an arch look. “Which is probably the right answer most of the time.”

“Okay, firstly? I knew by the time I was four that Santa was impossible by all known laws of physics. And my parents had the most dreadful Christmas Eve parties you can imagine.” Tony smirked. “So, when I was five, I played along, went to bed like a good boy, then got up in the middle of the night to look at all my presents. My parents woke up to me sleeping under the tree in a pile of wrapping paper, clutching my first robotics kit.”

Thor knew he was missing something, even as he watched Steve's mouth twitch into a reluctant grin. “And secondly,” Tony continued, “We just saved the world. Or at least New York. From what turned out to be some sort of bizarre Dickensian pastiche perpetrated by an altruistic twelve-year-old. It's the _best_ sort of day! Everybody lived. Xavier gets another wonder kid. Hell... half of New York thought the whole ghost thing **was** some sort of Christmas stunt until they started threatening to strangle people with their chains. So I think a Christmas Eve party is in order. Break out the egg nog & mistletoe!”

That's how the Avengers wound up eating Chinese food at midnight on Christmas Eve while paying half attention to Christmas movies. Thor had planted himself on the floor, slightly off to the side of the rest of them. Tony had settled in on the couch with eggnog and bourbon. Thor wasn't entirely sure Tony had eaten anything _but_ eggnog and bourbon, but knew better than to ask. Bruce sprawled, half-asleep in an armchair, a small smile on his lips.

Clint was perched on the edge of the couch with a carton of lo mein and a ridiculous red hat on his head. “I'll take those looks as looks of approval,” he had said to Lady Natasha and Son of Coul, in reply to their silent, bemused disdain.

Steve was sitting between Tony and Natasha, demolishing what was left of the orange chicken while talking between bites about how one Christmas his mother had scrimped and saved to get him a baseball glove. He grinned shyly, “I kept that thing for years. I didn't _play_ much, of course. Heck, even if I managed to hit the ball, I'd have an asthma attack by the time I got to first base...”

When Tony snickered, Natasha gave him a sharp look that made him shrug and play at mock sheepishness. _Again, I do not understand their humor,_ Thor thought. _It is exhausting sometimes._

“It was one of the few things I really had from my mom. Had it right until well...” Steve trailed off, looking sad, which prompted Clint to start talking about one Christmas in the circus.

Thor stopped listening. He didn't mean to exactly. He understood Christmas in theory. Steve and Coulson had done their best to explain Christianity and Christmas to him. He'd gotten a little sidetracked by the crucifixion. “Like when Odin hung on Yggdrasil!” Steve had winced, and Thor stopped making comments about Earth gods. Though he did have to clarify that “Santa Claus does not look like any elves known to Asgard.” Humans had some very strange ideas about the universe.

In truth, Earth seemed obsessed with Christmas. Christmas songs were played all the time. “Your music. It is beautiful, but its story is strange,” he had remarked to a bewildered barista in late november, before he'd realized the extent of it. She had stared at him before handing him his coffee, though he was grudgingly used to that in Midgard.

There were decorations everywhere. While the the trees and lights were pretty enough for a festival on Asgard, he couldn't help feeling... _Alien,_ he thought. _Which is what I am._

On the television, a green creature stole a child's Christmas tree. Not only that, he lied to her about it. Thor thought that, while he didn't understand Christmas, he knew enough to know this was a terrible thing. “I think I dislike this tale,” he muttered sourly.

“It's about redemption,” Natasha said softly. She'd walked so softly he hadn't realized she was there. She sank to the floor next to him, offering him one of the cups of cocoa she held. When he accepted it, she leaned against him gently. “Most Christmas stories are. Redemption and miracles.”

“Do you believe in this... Christmas?” he asked her.

She didn't look back at him, but he got the feeling she wasn't looking at the television either. “I was a child when they... remade me. I don't really remember much of anything of my life before that. And when you create a killer, religion isn't really on the list of things to instill. But sometimes...” she paused, her face going just a little soft. “Sometimes I find a children's ballet of the Nutcracker around Christmas. I look at all the little girls dancing, and it makes me happy,” she looked down at her cocoa briefly. When she looked up again, her face was the same unreadable mask as usual. “I suppose many girls wanted to be dancers at some point,” she observed, as if talking about someone else's life.

 _Of course, it is another life for her,_ Thor thought, but was wise enough to not say.

She glanced towards him. “So I don't know that I believe in Christmas exactly. But redemption? Miracles? Ten years ago I would have told you there was no such thing as either. Today I'm part of a team with a demigod, and I'm no longer one of the bad guys. So I suppose I should.” With that, she turned her beautiful, enigmatic face back to the television.

Thor gazed on her face for a moment longer, at the way the flickering light from the television played over her face. Then he returned his own attention to the movie again, feeling grateful for her warmth beside him. After a while on the television, a heart grew three sizes.

 _Redemption indeed,_ Thor thought, finding himself smiling despite his earlier mood. _It is a children's tale, a simple story. Yet...,_ he found his heart aches at the thought, but the joyful film ended he knew where he should be.

“Thank you, Lady Natasha,” Thor said finally, as he pushed himself to his feet. He bowed low. One of her eyebrows barely twitched. “I believe I have somewhere I need to be,” Thor explained, trusting that she would not ask. Thor took a few steps, then turned back to the bar to pour a glassful of eggnog.

Clint and Coulson had wandered off at some point. Bruce was still asleep in the armchair. Tony was collapsed against Steve, apparently asleep, his half-finished drink in-hand. To Thor's surprise when he headed for the elevators, Tony loudly slurred, “Where yooou goin'? We're gonna watch Muppets next.”

“You're practically asleep, Tony,” Steve answered, sounding more than halfway to sleep himself.

“'m totally alert. Making you think I'm asleep is part of my strategy...” Thor wandered off, forgotten by Tony for the moment as they quietly argued.

Thor made his way to the roof, and looked to the stars. He didn't even need to call Heimdall. “I want to see my brother,” he rumbled, and the bifrost was there for him.

 

When he arrived, Heimdall gazed at him impassively with his eyes that glowed like the bifrost itself, saying nothing. Thor had often wondered whether Heimdall had always looked that way, or whether the bifrost had changed him.

 _Perhaps I should introduce Lady Natasha to Heimdall. They have each perfected being inscrutable,_ he thought, as he traveled down to visit his mother.

He knocked at the wide oak door to Frigga's chambers. At the muffled “enter,” Thor opened the door, bowing low. “Mother,” he said, pausing, inhaling the smell of home. Frigga's chambers always smelled of apples, spice, and lady's bedstraw. “I cannot stay long. I have come to ask a favor for...” _Christmas_ he almost said, catching himself. “For something that would give me much happiness,” he finished finally.

With the lightest of touches on his shoulder, she bade him rise. Frigga the ever beautiful, wearing diaphanous robes of blue and white. She smiled as she touched his face gently. “I would gladly do whatever in my power to make my son happy.” Thor heard her voice catch on “son.” _Sons,_ he thought. _At least I do hope._

 

Later still, Thor and Frigga wandered down to Loki's prison, a bundle under Thor's arm. Frigga paused before the doorway, placing a hand on Thor's arm. Even in the dim light, he could tell that she sorrowed.

“He says he hates you,” she whispered, staring up into his face. “I have visited him each day, though he seldom will have me present for long.” She shook her head and swallowed hard.

“He has said that he hates us all. My son...” Thor was sure she meant Loki, though she looked at him. “I would not want you to to be disappointed,” With a hand on the doorway, his mother changed the barrier to allow him and his bundle through. The threshold shimmered gold briefly, then returned to its original faint shimmer.

“Tonight mother. Tonight I have faith,” Thor replied with a smile. His mother kissed his head before turning back down the hallway, a fluttering ghost moving softly through the darkness. Thor turned to the doorway, closing his eyes as he stepped through. He felt the magic run over him as he passed each barrier – the first to prevent anyone from carrying anything dangerous into Loki. The second to prevent Loki from leaving, and to suppress his magic.

He found himself in a well-furnished room, filled with books on every surface, and his brother sitting in a chair, staring into the hearth fire. Loki looked thinner than when Thor had last seen him. Sadder and tired. He thought of the moment on the tower where Loki had almost, _almost_ joined with him.

 _He wanted to. I know he did,_ Thor thought. _Didn't he?_

 _Redemption and Miracles_ , Natasha repeated in the quiet of his mind.

Thor took a breath, then “Brother?” he called out, hesitantly.

Loki jerked, head snapping upward, his too-green eyes wide for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed as he made himself still. He didn't speak for a long moment. “Have you come to gloat then?” he asked, his voice steady, measured.

“No brother,” Thor shook his head. “I've brought you gifts.”

Loki huffed. “Gifts for the monster. What sentiment could have possessed you, brother?” He sneered, but it seemed more out of habit than anything. Then Loki shifted, cocking his head. “I …. sense magic?” He looked up at Thor, eyes widening.

“Brother, I have brought you this,” Thor said, grinning, as he placed a silver bowl in Loki's hands.

“One of our mother's mirrors,” Loki said, studying the runes inscribed on the inner edge of the silver bowl. His eyebrows knitted together as he turned the bowl over in his slender hands. “It is limited somehow though...”

Thor replied, his voice soft, “We will be able to talk to each other in the reflection on the water.”

Loki sighed, dropping his hands and the bowl in his lap. “Thor, I have tried to kill you twice now. Why would you _possibly_ think I would want to talk to you?” He didn't look up, but his fingers continued to trace the runes on the bowl.

 _My brother must miss his magic,_ Thor thought, even as he replied, “Because we are brothers. And it is Christmas.”

Loki looked up finally, head tilted to stare at Thor as if he'd lost his senses. “Pardon, it's what? Is this some Earth custom?” He blinked, then sniffed, “And what _are_ you drinking?”

“It is called eggnog. It is creamy and pleasant. I brought it for you,” Thor said, holding out the glass.

Loki's eyes flickered wild for a moment. _He will surely slap it from my hand,_ Thor thought. Then, to his surprise, Loki took the glass, sniffing it suspiciously, before taking a small sip.

“Ugh, it's ghastly. Too sweet,” he said, holding the glass at arm's length. “Really brother, you have no taste at all.”

 

All through the night, Thor sat with Loki unsure why Loki never raged at him. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they were silent. While he was never kind, Loki was never as cruel as he could have been either. When dawn came to Asgard, Loki was nearly asleep. Thor rose to leave.

“You are a fool, Thor,” Loki said quietly, fingers still playing over the silver bowl. “A sentimental fool.”

“And you are a grinch, brother,” Thor replied, smiling a little at Loki's confused expression. “And that gives me hope.”


End file.
